Wednesday, July 25, 2018

#BookQW is DRY #Tirgearr publishing steamy #RomanticSuspense -- are you good at retorts? Amy (heroine in Deadly Alliance) wishes she were!

Book Quote Wednesday's word is DRY. Amy was never good at retorts. Excerpt from Deadly Alliance, steamy romantic suspense in an Irish-American series.

There she was on a Friday morning in October in Lake
Arrowhead heading for her third interview with Finn. Big mistake. Amy doubted
he would hire her. Not if he knew what she’d discovered last night. Les or
someone close to him had lodged a dirty secret inside her folder for shorts
patterns.

Clenching the dratted envelope, she wasn’t the hopeful
person she was yesterday when she stumbled through Arrowhead Cafe’s open door. Her
achy toe twinged in pain, minor compared to the growing pulse across her forehead.
As she whiffed rich, oily coffee, her stomach protested. She eased her way
through bodies. Like everywhere in their lake community on a Friday, the
restaurant crawled with out-of-towners.

Finn had chosen a secluded table here, instead of
where she’d be working if he hired her. These people were strangers compared to
office acquaintances she knew because of Les, with an urge to snoop. Sinking
into the same spot where she’d met Finn’s head accountant on Monday and
Wednesday, a burn of anxiety made its way up her esophagus. She glanced at her
phone’s home screen. No messages. He was late, and she listened for the rumble
of his kickass Harley.

Heard it roar. He hadn’t forgotten their appointment.

A wave swelled through the crowd with heads turning
and looking past where she huddled. Amy leaned around a pillar to spot the
source of the commotion. Finn, all six-and-a-half feet of him, wore a black,
tailor-fitted leather jacket and black-as-death, Kevlar pants. Sexy, yes, but
she wasn’t here for a date. If and when the time was right, she’d pick an
average-looking guy. Knowing how good looks fizzled made her immune.

With his helmet tucked under an elbow, Finn shifted
between onlookers. The patrons tracked his rolling stride toward her.

She pulled back, instinct driving her to shield
herself with the wide packet. It slipped from her hands and thumped to the
floor. As she seized it, her peripheral vision caught his harsh, chiseled chin.

His intense, blue eyes stripped her of her talent for
blending in. Exposed for who she was, guilty by association, he captured her
distress. “You’re on the sunny side of prompt.” His ruthless face softened. “In
spite of last night,” the tough guy added with more warmth in his tone.

Drat, she wasn’t immune, but she did have common
sense. “I’m on time. No matter what.” Desperate for oxygen, she took a deep,
slow breath and tried to release the hard grip she had on the thick envelope.

He studied her face. “What’s with the white knuckles?”

The manila envelope throbbed in her hands, begging her
to come clean. “We need to talk.”

“Talk?” He chuckled and waved off the idea. His manly
cologne drifted her way, but she didn’t allow it to be intoxicating

The waitress, believing he’d signaled her, breezed
over. “I know your order from before.” She set down lattes, a few sugar
packets, and bagels, free on Fridays.

After handing the waitress a twenty, Finn slid a bite
of bagel between his lips and followed it with a sip. He looked the same except
for the furrowing of his brow. “When I glanced over your qualifications, I
acted on impulse.”

“I acted as my own bookkeeper. Used Excel.”

“Before you became a taxi driver.”

“Well, you used to be an Army Ranger.” She sipped and
coughed from the stupid thing she said. As she dug her fingernails into the envelope,
packed with incrimination, she leaned toward the grave she was digging. “I
found something of Lester’s.”

“I don’t collect keepsakes.” Tapping his steel-toed
boot, the big guy eyed her as if he found the Les topic troubling.

Her hands were shaking. Never good at retorts, she
came up dry.

He gazed at the earth-toned ceiling. “Okay, fine. Show
me in an hour?”

Out of politeness, she finished her pumpkin spice
latte, purchased and not to be wasted.

In a rush he downed his last drop and withdrew the mug
from his lips. “You’ll start this morning?”

It sounded like a question, but she knew it was a
command. She threw him a tight smile. “Yes, thank you. I’ll balance-sheet ten
clients by end of day.”

“That does it, you’re hired.” He pulled out his cell.
“Brooke. Our new bookkeeper is on her way. You know Amy. Get her going on
paperwork?” Another command. On the adjacent table, littered with unopened
sugar packets, he stuffed two into his pocket.

“Take mine.” She pushed hers toward him.

“You think I’m a sugar junkie?” He smiled. “Need to
make a delivery. Someone ran out.” He had the hot-CEO thing going. His lashes
lowered, taking on a slumberous expression that set her heart to pounding.

As she stood, she took note of his quirky combo of a
love-em-and-leave-em reputation and friend. Lester’s former partner extended
his hand. Amy returned his all-business handshake. For a few seconds while
going through the doorway with his hand low on her back, her near-dead libido
hummed.

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About Me

I do my best to blend fast-paced action with personal struggles and tender romance. Romantic suspense is my genre, and I write for Tirgearr Publishing in Ireland. Deadly Alliance has a release date of February 2016. I'm writing the sequel, Alliance of Liars.